Happy Summer: The Invasion Took A Lunch Break
by Schizotypical
Summary: pro·cras·ti·nate verb \prə-ˈkras-tə-ˌnāt, prō-\ : to be slow or late about doing something that should be done : to delay doing something until a later time because you do not want to do it, because you are lazy, etc.


The Dib human wobbled to come to my lair, his precious dumb little head bouncing around like those weird human bobbleheads they think is a good idea to put in their inferior vehicles. I hated that dreaded Earth sun, especially that day. It was too bright, much brighter than I remembered of Cirrus Minor, or Alpha Centauri for that matter.

Screaming ensued from my robot servant. His screaming was so explosive that I could imagine the hinge of his mouth coming off on the single "hilarious" declaraction of "WAFFLES!" He needed waffles again. Emphasis: needed. A very happy boy (to the point of being unnerving) desired waffles, pancakes, and chicken gizzards. It was the afternoon and we were having a chaotic Earthling breakfast. Even if I said it was "chaotic" this was the norm; the typical. The big headed boy knew this too that clatter and clutter and senselessness and violence and obtuse statements and nonsequiters were all that were uttered here. Things were very much the same.

Strength and tenacity wasn't lost to me, typical puny acne-ridden fanfic reader. There was still a desire to conquer this horrid planet and to "purify" it with the Irken forces and the Tallest's vague plans of making it another snack planet. I just lost the willpower. Pointlessness was apparent in my life, I lived it constantly. This pointlessness and poverty of excitement made me realize that maybe it was best I didn't disturb things for a while. Trees looked mighty fine today. They reminded me of paper that wasn't totally burned in an invasion to rid the planet of the past history it once had.

Adjustment to the time and synchronization of this planet was crucial. I woke up (late) in the morning, did my work, maybe went to school (basically whenever I felt there was a reason. I wasn't particularly worried about getting a futile and disillusioned Earthling education. Seriously though, Irkens are much more educated at this supposed "age" than these school children are. Reduced funding even if this very education was important? (The old, white, shriveled Earthlings were possibly the worst of these creatures. Mental note to eradicate them first.)

Dib sat down, his hands restless. I was there, and of course he was reduced to spasms of insanity that I was adjusted to at this point as well. Questions were stabbed through me, of why I forgot the planet had to be conquered to appease my superiors. There wasn't an explanation, a word really to describe how I felt about things. Things that were...full of stuff. Things I guess I listened to sometimes. The things were also full of creamy filling of things I had to ignore everywhere else. All messages from the Tallest ceased abruptly, and when I soon caught on to this Earth-centric flow of time, there really wasn't any feeling at all. No loss, no devastation that I failed them or they sent me here to be rid of me in the first place. I felt nothing. The things that were also full of stuff wasn't as stuffy and thingy as I last remembered. Voices from my past life were absent. There was GIR, but he knew nothing, because he truly was programmed to know nothing. I was programmed, too, to know nothing about what happened back on my planet. Stuffs and things ceased to be important when they were gone. Inside the trash in the slobbering obese tottering neighbors home, it was the things that once marked me. I wasn't marked anymore. No mission was sacred to me, nothing felt important in the grand scheme of things. Feelings elapsed and the things and stuffs I wasn't sure how to feel about anymore. The remaining things were there. And that was all I could say. It was there. No reason to tell you further chair-perched little worm.

Dib no longer screamed but was relatively calm as we ate. From time to Earth time, he asked me when my next plan of action to take care of this gross planet would happen. I said it would come soon and I was making SUCH AMAZING SPINE-SHATTERING PLANS, but it was an artificial response I would have to admit to you. It was just to keep the Earth boy entertained while the happy grinning boy smeared syrup all over himself and GIR said things that were pointless but at time were actually quite meaningful. GIR was useful sometimes, even if he really wasn't.

The Earth sun was sinking, gazing lower into space. There was a dumb vapid Earth term for people who experienced these mind stuffs like I was at that time. "Procrastination". It meant that while you knew something had to be done, like saving this planet from its horrible and miserable demise by just destroying it yourself without the aid of all these old men creatures, you kept forgetting why it was something you had to do in the first place. Pink protoplasm's scattered in the wind from the trees outside. Black feathered creatures sang to allude to the precipitating darkness. Things just felt fine the way they were. The stuffs and things that I had right now had to be kept here. There really wasn't much of a rational explanation to tell you other than there was just pointlessness in the whole plan, and this pointlessness really wasn't a terrible thing to be inflicted on me. Maybe I'd tell you that these things mattered in the end, as dismal as they were. I was here, and it's all I can tell anyone.

Now go away you sniveling sad little tortoise.


End file.
